


Restore

by PortalPanda



Series: Tron: Remnants [8]
Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Uprising
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mention of Character Death, Post-Tron: Legacy, injury mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26152078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PortalPanda/pseuds/PortalPanda
Summary: The Grid and its programs begin to recover after the Users return.
Relationships: Alan Bradley & Sam Flynn, Alan Bradley & Tron, Tron (Tron)/Yori (Tron)
Series: Tron: Remnants [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727482
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	Restore

The Users return sooner than Yori expects. 

The portal recognizes the pattern of Sam Flynn, and caches a new one as Alan-One. Yori’s blue light-lines are restored at the sight, though she doesn’t notice. The nano the Users appear on the Grid she jumps through the tower window and rezzes a light-jet beneath her, racing towards the sea. She leaves a trail of light behind her and hopes they have the sense to follow it.

\---------------------------------------

It isn’t hard to spot Tron in the darkness, though the light of his circuits is dimmer than it should be. Yori lands her jet on the island where the sea has spat him out, and barely gives it time to derez around her before she breaks into a run. The ground here is slick and uneven; she falls, catching herself on her hands, and when she looks up her counterpart is lying in front of her. 

“ _ Tron _ .” 

He’s offline and badly damaged. More of the code on his torso is missing than intact; every circuit is cut by gashes of deadened gray. His light-lines are blue again, though they’re flickering and faint. The only remaining sign of Rinzler is the glossy mask that hid the enforcer’s face. 

Yori hesitates for a nano before deactivating the helmet. 

Tron looks exhausted and pale, but his face is so familiar that her core stutters. His eyes are closed, and one of them is damaged by a gash that runs down to his neck. 

Yori recognizes this scar from the memory Beck showed her, and she wonders if the rest of these injuries are old, too-- reactivated somehow. She isn't sure how it’s possible, but she doubts that Clu could have done all this in just the time it took Tron to fall to the sea. 

Yori’s hands hover over him, too afraid to touch. Though she longs for the contact, the last thing she wants is to cause him further pain. 

His hands, at least, aren’t damaged; she takes one in her own, pinging [ _ calm/safe _ ] as she brushes against the (beautiful  _ blue _ ) light-lines on his fingers.

“It’s alright,” Her vocal processors are strained; tinny from exhaustion and grief. But she squeezes Tron’s hand, doesn’t cry, doesn’t break. “It’s going to be alright. I’m here.” 

His circuits flicker like an argument. 

“The Users have returned, they’ll be here soon. Hold on just a little bit longer. Please.”

She cradles his hand against her face, closing her eyes. He used to hold her like this, constantly. 

They were always sharing little touches and embraces before they were parted-- occasionally to the point that Flynn would roll his eyes in exasperation. What the User didn’t understand was that these exchanges were more than a simple sign of affection (though that was certainly part of them). As a simulations program, Yori’s sense of touch allowed her to see the inner-workings of a program in ways her sight did not. Tron was a security program; for him, contact ensured safety. Every time they touched, they received a bit of assurance that the other was whole and safe. 

Tron isn’t either of those things now, but the feel of his hand in hers floods her with so much relief she wants to cry. She’s missed him so much-- she’s missed  _ this _ . Maybe he has, too.

It may very well be her imagination, but she thinks the light-lines on Tron’s fingers brighten the tiniest bit under her hands. She gives a shaky laugh.

“That’s it.”

As carefully as possible she props his head in her lap and removes his discs. He’s a System Monitor--  _ the  _ System Monitor-- and he’s completely limp and unresponsive as she takes his weapons. A chill settles in her code from more than the sea air. She’s never seen him like this. This is  _ wrong _ .

But it won’t be for much longer.

Yori hears a sound from somewhere behind her, and strains to see its source without displacing Tron. 

“Did you see--”

“Over here!”

She recognizes the second voice as belonging to Sam Flynn, who appears practically from thin air. He’s followed closely by someone else. 

Yori identifies Alan-One instantly-- not just based on his appearance (identical to Tron, though more gray and with strange lenses in front of his face), but because the nano she sees him she has the same feeling as when she first met Kevin Flynn. Her User knows him, feels safe with him. She already trusts him.

He freezes when he sees her, and there’s an emotion in his expression that she can’t quite name. 

“Lora?” 

Her circuits ache with another kind of sadness she doesn’t have time for. 

“Yori,” Sam corrects him. Under different circumstances she might be insulted by the shock in his voice; for now their attention is quickly directed to her counterpart, where it belongs.

“Tron,” Alan-One kneels beside his program, looking stricken as he takes in the damage. “What did they do to you?”

There were times when Yori cursed Tron’s User. When she thought her counterpart was dead-- when she first saw Rinzler-- when Beck told her of Tron’s injuries and torture. Tron was the model of loyalty and devotion. There was no reason why his User should have abandoned him, especially to such a cruel fate.

But Tron’s circuits brighten at his Alan-One’s touch, holding blue. He’s still loyal. And the User is surprisingly gentle as he takes the program’s wrist, his eyes filled with worry.

Something in Yori’s core softens; offering Tron’s discs isn’t as difficult as she expects it to be.

“Help him. Please.”

Alan-One hesitates for a nano before taking them carefully, as if they’re made of glass. His eyes hold more uncertainty than she’d like, but they’re also filled with determination. He nods.

“I’ll try.”

\--------------------------------------

It isn’t long before Tron appears to be out of immediate danger.

At first Sam and Alan-One had talked and bickered in their attempts at figuring out the User-interface of the discs, but now Alan is in what Flynn would refer to as ‘the zone,’ and Tron’s more serious injuries are healed. 

Yori’s hands rest on his shoulders, monitoring his energy flow and waiting for movement or some sort of ping. He’s stable but remains offline, and though she’s glad to see him healing, the stillness is beginning to get to her.

Things are quiet now. Aside from the occasional distraught noise, Alan works in silence. Yori knows better than to distract him, and she has no particular desire to watch him rearrange Tron’s code, so (though part of her remains focused on Tron) her attention drifts to Sam Flynn instead.

He’s young; the User equivalent of a beta. Yori finds that she knows him in the same way she knows Alan-One. Her User’s feelings towards Sam are a protective kind affection, much like what she felt for Beck. Though she’s trying very hard not to think about that now.

Yori is also trying not to think about Flynn (she doesn’t have the energy to sort through those feelings), which is made difficult by the resemblance Sam bears to his father. 

No matter how many times Flynn visited the Grid, he still took in his surroundings with a sense of wonder. There isn’t nearly as much to see, now, but Sam radiates that same kind of curiosity. He practically holds his breath while he watches Alan code-- though the intensity of his focus may also stem from worry. Sam seems to care about Tron, despite the fact that their run-ins so far haven’t exactly been pleasant. Yori wonders if he remembers stories of Flynn’s adventures on the Grid from when he was younger. It’s the only explanation she can think of as to how he knows her name.

Yori stares at him for a while before it registers that he’s watching her back.

Her systems offer basic observations instead of providing her with dialogue prompts. Sam Flynn has his father’s eyes. Her User trusts him. The smile he gives her is the same one he gives Tron; a mix of compassion and worry. His movements are filled with hesitance as he shifts closer, as if she’ll bolt at the slightest sign of danger. Does she look flighty or wild? Frightened? For the most part she feels numb.

“No offense, but you look exhausted. Can I…?” 

Yori accepts the hand Sam offers, though she doesn’t understand what he’s asking until the energy streams into her system.

The difference is so drastic that she thinks she may have been close to a shut down without realizing it. She’d been so focused on Tron, she’d forgotten that she hadn’t replenished her energy levels in cycles. Now she breathes a little easier; feels much more alert, and more like herself than she has in a while. 

“Thank you.” 

Sam nods. For a nano his smile turns warmer, but it disappears (replaced with shock) when Alan swears.

Tron’s energy flow spikes. Yori looks down and finds that the network of injuries Alan-One has healed across his frame are reopening at an alarming speed, almost as if he’s derezzing. The User sounds as distressed as she feels, raising his hands from Tron’s code as if he’s afraid to touch it. 

“How are these coming back?!”

The ice in Yori’s circuits turns to fury so quickly it’s almost impressive.

“Clu,” She growls. “ _ Dyson _ .” 

Now that she has the energy, she finds it’s easy to be angry-- though that won’t fix anything.

“Beck said something about Tron having a virus,” Yori explains, turning to Alan-One. “Another program gave him these injuries and made it so they wouldn’t heal.” 

She looks at one of Tron’s discs, where his code is changing without his User’s input. Entire sections are self-deleting or turning orange. The sight is both fascinating and sickening. 

“Maybe this is some kind of defense mechanism for the Rinzler programming. The injuries return when you try to restore his original programming--”

“So I need to get rid of the virus first,” the User finishes, already returning to work. “Thank you.” 

Yori nods, but she feels guilty--  _ empty _ , like a code-worm has hollowed out her core. She cups the side of Tron’s face that isn’t damaged, gently tracing his jaw. 

“This is what would’ve happened if he tried to fight the reprogramming,” she says quietly. “I never could have saved him from this.” 

There are so many things Yori has failed at, but her attempts at restoring Tron were always doomed. And what if they still are? What will she do if the Users can’t save him? What will she do if she’s trapped here all  _ alone _ ? 

“Hey.” She looks up as Sam gives her a little nudge. He offers another smile, soft with sympathy and reassurance. “It’ll be okay. He’s gonna be alright.” 

Yori appreciates the gesture, but she doesn’t respond. She knows Sam’s heart is in the right place; she can’t bring herself to tell him that she has a bad track record with Flynns and promises.

The only thing that will truly make her feel better is a sign of life from Tron. In all this time, he hasn’t so much as stirred. 

Yori wants to send him a ping, wants him to hear her voice and know that he’s safe, but she’s also afraid to pull him out of the sleep mode he’s entered. Programs aren’t meant to be online during updates or edits; at least like this he isn’t in pain. 

\------------------------------------------

Tron continues to lie still, and Sam and Yori try to remain quiet while Alan works. They stay that way for a long time, until Yori remembers the portal.

“Your time here is over halfway up,” she says quietly. The Users blink at her. “The portal will only remain open for a few more User hours.” 

Yori also needs to be back at the tower in order to close it. How in the name of the Users is she supposed to leave Tron like this? 

Sam waves her words away instead of standing, though he shares a look with Alan.

“I don’t think we’ll be here for that long, but Quorra’s on the other side. She’ll let us out if we stay too long. We told her to shut the laser off for a bit first, though, so it shouldn’t overload anything.”

Alan-One clears his throat.

“Alright, Alan told her that.”

Yori nods, but her attention is elsewhere.

_ Quorra _ . That must be the ISO that left with him. A program in the User world...

Alan stops scrolling through code to look up at Sam.

“Quorra’s from here, isn’t she?”

“Yes...” Sam almost asks.

Alan starts to say something else, then stops, distracted by another jagged line of orange in Tron’s code.

“Are either of you going to tell me who  _ did  _ this?” 

The words of Tron’s User aren’t nearly as chilling as the tone he uses. There’s something dark in his eyes as he looks between Yori and Sam. 

Yori doesn’t think she’s ever seen an angry User before. Cast in the glow of Tron’s code, he looks powerful and frightening. She fights the urge to make herself appear smaller. Even  _ Sam  _ looks startled; Alan is usually so soft spoken and dorky that it’s easy to forget how  _ scary  _ he is when he’s mad.

“Not Quorra,” he sputters.

Alan sighs.

“I didn’t think it was Quorra, Sam.”

“Right…” Sam says. “It was a program named Clu-- but that doesn’t matter right now. All you need to know is that he’s gone. He won’t hurt anyone else.” 

Alan hums. Yori can’t tell if it’s satisfied or annoyed; she gets the feeling he’d like to restore Clu just to derez him himself.

She’d like to see that. 

Yori’s amusement fades when Alan-One turns to her, closing the User-interface on Tron’s discs.

“I think that’s the best I can do for now.”

“You’re finished?” Suddenly she feels overcharged.

“For now. It isn’t going to be perfect,” Alan warns. Sam grimaces, though he doesn’t see it. “The virus and the scars are gone, along with any major reprogramming. But there’s still some damage, and sections of code that are… missing.” 

His expression softens as Yori’s light-lines flicker. 

“We’ll keep trying. I can make more edits, write more updates. It’ll be easier from the other side of the screen. And honestly, I hate to change more than I have to without asking. After what Clu’s done… I don’t think it can hurt to ask for some consent.” 

Yori hadn’t thought of that (if anyone had unspoken permission to edit a program it would be their User), but it makes sense. The sentiment makes her trust Alan-One even more. 

Then the User does something else Yori doesn’t expect; he offers Tron’s discs to her. She blinks.

“He’ll need your help just as much as he needs ours. If not more.” 

She nods mutely, taking the discs with surprisingly steady hands. Calm flows through her at the familiar hum of Tron’s energy. 

“When you’re ready,” Alan says; and now the Users wait for her.

\----------------------------

Tron has failed, is falling, has fallen. 

He was designed to  _ fight _ , but he has learned the hard way that there are some things you  _ can’t  _ fight. 

Rinzler is broken and confused, corrupted. His friend is in trouble. His Luminary is furious. He tries to break his repurposing, tries to aid Flynn. For one glorious nano Tron is restored ( _ “I fight for the Users!”),  _ but Clu beats him yet again-- takes his baton and leaves him to fall one more time. 

Still Tron fights. Flynn and Clu are beyond him-- the last program he derezzes will be  _ Rinzler _ . Even as he hits the water he smothers Clu’s reprogramming (which feels far too much like smothering  _ himself _ )-- takes back his blue circuits and his  _ name _ \-- his mind. 

Within his helmet Tron takes a slow breath, and allows himself to sink. 

Flynn is gone. Clu is gone. He has served and failed them both-- been abandoned by both. A war has been raging across the Grid for nearly 1000 cycles, and now both sides will see him as an enemy. No one will pity Rinzler, and no one will trust Tron; they are one in the same. There is no one to fight for, no one to return to. Even his User abandoned him long ago.

Tron will share the fate of the ISOs who never left the sea; a fitting punishment for his failure and betrayal. Then there is  _ pain _ , and he no longer has a choice-- he couldn’t swim to the surface if he wanted to.

( _ “That’s another little gift from Dyson. When you fight against your reprogramming your old scars act up. To put it mildly.”) _

Both Rinzler and Tron have seen the deresolution of many programs. It looks like being shattered-- painful but fleeting. His pain is not quick, but for the most part it is distant. He doesn’t have the energy to focus on it.

The error messages blur together, along with the darkness of the sea. He drowns in both.

[SYSTEMS FAILURE]

[FAILURE]

[FAILURE]

[FAILURE]

The warnings persist, and yet Tron lingers. His energy drains until sinking feels like floating. The pain fades. Then he knows he’s slipping; he feels hands, hears voices. 

“Come on, Tron. Wake up. You can do it.” 

He knows that voice down to his root-code. It’s so much like his own, but stronger. The words are filled with power and purpose, but also gentle reassurance. Tron’s systems respond as if he’s been given a command. The voice says something that he can’t quite make out before going silent. Then there is another. 

The feeling of hands returns, as if someone is tracing the light-lines on his shoulders. Tron should know better than to trust something so gentle, but this is familiar somehow, and he relaxes despite his better judgment. 

[ _ Stay _ ]

Tron knows this voice, too. His systems shudder at the ping, and the warmth and affection behind it. There’s a signature here that he recognizes, and something in his code clicks into place like a missing piece.

\--------------------------------------

Tron opens his eyes and the world is blue.

Rinzler was never fond of the color blue. 

The circuits of those who served the Luminary burned in shades of red and orange, while Clu himself shone with perfect golden light. Blue was sharper; colder. Imperfect. Programs in blue were walking ghosts, soon to be derezzed. ISOs with blue-white light-lines were a threat to the Grid. They were hunted-- shattered. Basic programs with blue circuits were killed in the games-- often for questioning or disobeying their leader. Wherever there was blue light, there was trouble close behind. Rinzler only admired blue circuits as they were overcome with orange. 

But this is different. 

Yori’s glow is unique to her, a blue so deep it’s nearly violet. Tron finds himself washed in that blue light, staring up into eyes that match. He still feels like he’s going to shatter, now for a very different reason.

“... Yori…?”

Her frame trembles with a laugh. Tears streak down her face despite her smile, and he reaches up to brush them away. The contact gives them both a jolt of far too many emotions [ _ joy/grief/fear/hope/guilt/love _ ]. For a nano it’s overwhelming, but then her hand covers his, and Tron diverts his focus to that. 

“ _ Tron _ .” 

She presses a kiss to the back of his hand (he feels as if he’s been given a little shock) before she helps him sit up. Tron expects pain at the movement, but there’s nothing beyond a dull ache. A diagnostic scan reveals that all his injuries have been healed. There’s no sign of any of his old scars. Tron tenses at this, surprised, and then again when he feels Yori’s hand in his hair. 

Her touch is gentle, cautious, and yet she feels him tense as if he’s too stunned to move. 

Yori is reminded of their early interactions on the ENCOM system, back when both of them were betas. Tron was the high-and-mighty System Monitor, and every time she touched him he would  _ jump _ , much to his dismay and her delight. He’s too alert now, just like he was then. 

“Is this alright?” Yori asks. (She would pull him into a crushing hug if she wasn’t afraid of overwhelming him. She doubts he’s had much contact in a long time.)

Tron nods, humming softly as he leans into her touch. He radiates warm [ _ affection _ ] where he touches her cheek. He wants to be closer to her, wants to hold her, but something in his code insists ( _ screams _ ) that that’s a bad idea. (He has not been permitted to want anything in a very long time, though that isn’t the only problem.) He shouldn’t even be  _ this  _ close to her, but he’s missed her and this feels safe… 

Tron is lost in a haze of bliss and distress when Rinzler’s grating purr returns.

_ “Not even  _ Yori  _ would want you now.” _

He yanks away from her as if he’s suddenly turned viral-- and he isn’t much better. Tron has betrayed every single one of his directives. He tried to kill the  _ Users _ . He served Clu, and helped him destroy the Grid. He doesn’t want to  _ know  _ how many innocent programs he derezzed, ISOs and Basics alike. Tron doesn’t deserve Yori’s comfort, and she wouldn’t offer it if--

“I know,” she says, voice weighed with sadness, and Tron wants to shut down again. He doesn’t understand why the light in her eyes turns softer; why she doesn’t look angry or hurt. Instead of recoiling she reaches toward him, slowly, giving him plenty of time to stop her. He doesn’t. Her touch is achingly gentle as she strokes the emblem at his throat. 

It’s too much.

Tron finally allows himself to hold her, almost collapsing in an embrace which Yori returns. 

He holds her too tightly even as he’s terrified of hurting her. He needs to prove to himself that this is real. 

Yori relaxes against him, transmitting [ _ safe/comfort _ ] as she smooths a hand across his back. She feels him sob as he buries his face in the crook of her neck.

“ _ Yori _ .”

“It’s alright,” she murmurs. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

As much as she hates to see Tron in pain, she’s glad he’s letting it out instead of bottling it up. It’s going to take him a long time to recover from everything he’s been through, but this is a start. She’s grateful that she gets to be a part of it; that he still trusts her enough to express this kind of vulnerability in front of her. She’s happy to protect him for once.

Yori holds him, offering what comfort she can until he calms. 

They lean against each other even after he stills, sharing warmth and the occasional [ _ comfort/ affection _ ]. She wonders if he might enter into sleep mode for a while. Between having half his code rewritten and their little reunion, he’s had an eventful cycle. She can tell he’s exhausted, and she isn’t much better. Yori would be content to never move again, but she sits up when she feels Tron shift.

He pulls back without letting her go, enough that he can see her face, and studies all the ways that she’s the same and different. He still looks grief stricken, but the admiration in his eyes borders on reverence.

[ _ I missed you _ ] he pings, brushing the circuits on her shoulder. Yori’s eyes are bright as she returns the ping, but he can tell that she’s shed a few tears of her own. Worry tugs at his core.

“Are you alright?” 

His scans show that she isn’t damaged, and she doesn’t seem to be in pain. Tron feels the faintest glimmer of [ _ amusement _ ] where their circuits touch. 

[ _ You’re here, aren’t you? _ ]

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, but Yori asks another question before he has to. 

“How do you feel?”

Tron flinches with what might be a laugh.

It would be wrong to tell her he feels terrible-- especially when the problem isn’t something she can fix. He isn’t injured. He’s himself for the first time since he can remember ( _ isn’t he? _ ), and she’s  _ safe _ . But he’s confused and broken and not nearly grateful enough, because none of this makes any sense. 

“Better,” is the answer he goes with, pinging a quick [ _ thank you _ ] for good measure. 

Tron wants to know how they’re here, but some frightened, irrational part of him warns that if he questions anything, it will all disappear; a trick of the sea, or Clu.

It feels real. Yori’s hand is warm as it trails down his arm; her eyes are so blue it almost hurts to look at them. Tron looks away, and suddenly the answers are right in front of him.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Yori says-- but there’s no need. Tron has already seen the Users; she knows when she feels him freeze. 

Sam Flynn and Alan-One stand farther down the shore, looking out over the sea. Their white light-lines create a kind of halo around them in the darkness. 

“Do you want to meet them?” Yori asks. “I can send them away if you don’t.” 

Tron’s expression is so completely blank she isn't sure if she should worry or laugh. He relaxes a little when he senses her amusement, and she smiles despite the bit of guilt she feels. “Sorry. I guess it’s still too soon to be making jokes.”

Tron can’t see their faces, but he knows that one of the Users is Sam Flynn. He recognizes the pattern of his light-lines from… before. The other User looks a little like Kevin Flynn (though that might just be because that’s the only reference he has). His light-lines are much more minimal than Sam’s, tracing the edge of the jacket he wears-- but his stature is different from Flynn’s. And some kind of tug in his core, something about the way the User stands, tells Tron that he knows him, too. When he manages to speak, Tron’s voice is hushed.

“Is that…?”

“Sam Flynn,” Yori says, “and Alan-One.”

The Users overhear her, and take her confirmation as a summons. Tron shrinks closer to Yori as they approach. Seeing her counterpart so intimidated is unnerving to say the least, though she knows where that fear is coming from. She transmits [ _ calm/safe _ ] as she squeezes his arm. 

Tron has longed for the return of his User for nearly 1000 cycles, but now that his Creator is here, he finds that he can’t quite look at him. Instead he stares at the ground in front of his feet, almost bowing his head. Tron never thought he would miss Rinzler’s helmet, but Alan-One’s gaze bores into him, and he feels  _ inadequate _ \-- wants to hide. 

It doesn’t help that Alan-One stands before Tron, looks down at him, and says nothing. 

Yori and Sam can tell he’s too awestruck to speak ( _ lines of code he created thirty years ago are now watching him with his younger self’s face _ ), but his silence may very well cause Tron to derez if it lasts much longer. 

Sam takes the initiative to break their strange little staring contest; though of course he blanks on anything intelligent to say.

“Uh, greetings, program.” 

That snaps Alan out of it. The look he gives Sam is slightly too irked to be a glare (suddenly a lot of things are beginning to make sense). The younger User bites back a laugh.

[ _ They aren’t too intimidating, are they? _ ] Yori pings, giving Tron a gentle nudge while Alan shakes his head. The Monitor sits up, straightening back to his full height, but his voice still sounds small. 

“Alan-One?”

_ Now  _ Tron meets his Creator’s eyes, and he does not expect the warmth there. 

“That’s right.” The User smiles, crouching down next to his program. “But you can call me Alan.”

He places a hand on Tron’s arm, and his circuits brighten with a rush of [ _ hope/relief _ ]. Alan-One looks at him with such kindness-- doesn’t seem angry or disappointed at all.

“You… you’re here. You saved me.” Something in Tron’s core twists. “ _ Why _ ?”

Tron remembers how Flynn’s affection for the digital world was always a kind of double edged sword. As a Monitor, it was rewarding to hear a User marvel at everything he worked to protect; but it was also alarming (in a Grid-shattering kind of way) when Tron realized just how much of their world Flynn didn’t understand. Excepting the ISOs, Users like Flynn made every part of every system Tron has ever inhabited. How could they be so powerful, yet lack understanding of the very things they created? How could they make entire worlds and be unaware of them?

Tron is reminded of all of this as he watches his User’s expression. It seems as though Alan-One may be asking himself those same questions.

“Because… you’re my program, Tron. I made you. Seeing you hurt like that-- I couldn’t stand it. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“I’m sorry,” Tron murmurs. There’s something dark in his eyes as he looks from his Creator to Sam. “Do  _ you  _ believe that?”

Unlike Alan, Sam has seen firsthand what Tron was reduced to. Rinzler nearly  _ murdered  _ him, along with his father and his friend. Surely he couldn’t forgive--

“Yes.”

Yori and the Users look at Tron with conviction, but not the kind he expected. He sits there, stunned, and Yori thinks she might hear a softer version of Rinzler’s whirring. She’s not sure if it’s more from confusion or distress. 

“I  _ failed _ ,” Tron says, and it’s almost a plea. “I turned on my system-- on the programs I was supposed to protect. I turned on the  _ Users _ . I deserve to be  _ derezzed _ , for the safety of the Grid.” 

“ _ No _ . You don’t.”

Alan’s tone books no room for argument, but even now he isn’t angry; there’s a kind of gentleness to everything he says and does. 

“Tron, I  _ wrote  _ your code, and when I repaired you just now I hardly recognized most of it. You are not responsible for the things Clu made you do. You didn’t deserve what happened to you, and it wasn’t your fault. It isn’t. And you’re not a threat to the Grid. Recoding forced you to do those things, and it’s gone now.” 

(Is it? Is this what Tron felt like before? He can’t remember. Can anyone truly return to their original state, unchanged, after being something else for nearly 1000 cycles?) 

“I don’t want you to beat yourself up over this. No one could expect you to fix every problem on the Grid all by yourself.”

Alan-One’s hand still rests on Tron’s arm. While Users can’t exchange pings like programs, somehow, Tron can sense his User’s honesty through the contact. He truly believes the things he’s saying. 

Tron fights the urge to shake his head; feels like he’s healing and breaking simultaneously. For so long he’d hoped his User would return, and now he’s here, offering comfort, and Tron can’t bring himself to accept it. Somehow, anger and punishment would be so much easier to deal with than such willing  _ forgiveness _ . But argument and blasphemy go hand in hand. He doesn’t want to disrespect his User, even if they disagree.

“You’re very gracious, Alan-One, but I wasn’t alone. I-” 

_ The memory is there, and it’s all too clear; Beck trying to outrun him and failing. Beck trying to fight, trying to save himself without badly hurting his mentor. The fear and pain in the younger program’s eyes when he tried to reason with Tron and was met with  _ Rinzler _. _

“ _ Beck _ .” 

His light-lines flicker as he pulls away from Alan; pure devastation written all over his face. Yori reaches for him even as he tries to shrug her away. 

“It’s alright, Tron.”

She can guess what’s causing his distress, and she refuses to let him blame himself for anything else-- especially something he had nothing to do with.

“No.  _ Beck _ .”

(Yori decides that she and Alan-One will derez Clu again,  _ painfully _ . They don’t have to tell Sam.)

“You didn’t kill Beck, Tron,” she says gently. “He escaped from Argon. He came to me.” 

His systems  _ whirr  _ as his grief stalls. He meets her eyes, half disbelieving.

“That’s— not possible.” ( _ Is it? _ ) “That’s not what I remember.”

_ Viral, raw anger pushed him to shatter the symbol and the program attached to it into a thousand voxels, and-- _

“Then what you remember is a false memory.”

A false memory. The words should make Tron despise Clu even more, but he’s too relieved to bother. Yori is safe, and Beck went to Yori.

“He’s with you?” Tron asks. She’d be glad to hear the hope in his voice under any other circumstances. “Yori. Where’s Beck?”

She shakes her head, slowly.

“I think-- the system reset.” ( _ Users _ , Tron can’t take much more of this.) “I’m not sure. Something happened-- it was like the entire Grid collapsed.” She swallows. “He didn’t… derez in the traditional sense, but he’s gone. We’re the only programs left.”

_ No _ .

Tron turns away from the sea to where Tron City should be, with the rest of the Grid behind it. Instead, there is _nothing_. There are no buildings, no programs, no _light_. The Grid is as empty and dark as the cycle Flynn rezzed them here. _How can it_ _all be gone?_

“What  _ happened _ ?” 

The question is directed at Alan-One, but the User only looks at Sam. Yori notes that neither of them seem to be taking this much better than Tron. 

“Dad called it reintegration,” Sam says quietly. “It was the only way to stop Clu.” 

Tron’s voice glitches.

“Flynn?” 

Sam shakes his head. 

Tron wants to scream. The need to protect Flynn was what allowed him to finally break his reprogramming, but in the end it wasn’t enough. Nothing he did ever seemed to be enough. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, but it’s useless-- the damage is done. 

[ _ It’s not your fault _ .] Yori’s words echo with a quiet kind of strength as she leans against him, causing something in his core to swell. After a nano Tron reciprocates, resting his head atop hers as they exchange [ _ comfort/grief _ ].

“Don’t be.” Sam’s expression is not happy, but it holds no malice. “Dad made a choice. I think we all know we could never control his choices.”

Alan makes a choked sound that might be a laugh. Sam pretends not to hear it.

“Besides,” his voice turns a little lighter as he looks at Tron. “If it weren’t for you, none of us would have gotten away. So thank you.” 

Yori feels Tron shift, still uneasy, but he doesn’t argue. 

Sam continues.

“If you guys are still here, it must mean that only what Dad coded was erased. That’s still pretty much everything-- but we can fix it. We think.”

Tron meets Sam’s eyes for a nano before looking away, mortified. He isn’t brave enough to hope for anything yet, and he shouldn’t ask. 

None of that stops Yori.

“What do you mean?”

“Your identity discs sync with the system in a way that creates a kind of backup of all your memories and data,” Sam explains. “That information still exists on the other side of the screen, and we think we can use it to restore the programs that were deleted. With the exception of the ISOs.”

The Users exchange a worried look as the programs in front of them go silent and still. Are they experiencing some kind of lag?

[ _ BECK! _ ] Yori pings, bit-like. Her [ _ joy _ ] hits Tron like an electrical surge, intense and  _ bright _ . It’s the only warning he gets before she lunges at him, trapping him in a hug. He manages to catch her, but he’s so surprised that they nearly lose their balance and topple backwards. And then he’s holding her (again) and she’s  _ laughing _ . The sound makes Tron feel  _ light _ . How long has it been since she was this  _ genuinely  _ happy? He copies her, pulling her closer and huffing his own laugh into her hair. 

Part of him is still afraid to believe it, but maybe things will be better from here on out. Beck (and maybe his old friends? His security team?) will be restored. Yori is here-- is herself. The Users have returned, and they want to  _ help _ . Tron will have the opportunity to reconcile some of the many mistakes he’s made-- whether they were intentional or not. The gratitude he knew he should feel before hits him in full force. Tron only wishes more of his mistakes could be fixed. He regrets the loss of the ISOs, who were his friends and never reached their true potential as Flynn saw it. 

Yori keeps an arm around him as she turns to face the Users. It’s almost like she can read his mind, sometimes. 

“If Flynn didn’t write the ISOs, they shouldn’t have been erased. Right?” She asks. 

Sam gives her a funny look.

“The ISOs were already gone. Dad said Quorra was the last one.”

Yori frowns.

“She wasn’t. When Clu-- betrayed us… I helped hide some of the ISOs in Tron City. I knew— what he would do, if he found them.” 

She feels Tron tense beside her.

“How many?” Sam asks.

“There used to be more,” she says, apologetic. “The last time I saw them, there were about twenty. I hope they’re alright; I hid them better than I realized. I haven’t thought to look for them before now.”

Sam gives a dubious little laugh, elated. Tron watches her with a strange kind of light in his eyes.

“You used the Easter eggs,” he says.

The Users do a double-take.

“You know what Easter eggs are?” Sam asks. He still sounds giddy.

“Hiding places I created in the Grid,” Yori explains. “One of Flynn’s strange requests.” 

Suddenly one of Rinzler’s memories returns: Clu ranting about rebellion in the Capitol-- programs committing acts of treason and disappearing into the Grid.

“The rebel base that Clu couldn’t find. The Uprising in the Capitol. That was  _ you _ , wasn’t it?”

Yori smiles, the picture of innocence. 

Tron ( _ Rinzler _ ) should have known that was her. He’s glad he didn’t. 

Yori’s circuits brighten at Tron’s [ _ pride _ ], though he doesn’t transmit the undercurrent of [ _ horror _ ] that goes with it. It really is a miracle she’s still rezzed.

“Is that how Beck found you?” Tron asks. For some reason, Yori laughs.

“I found Beck.”

[ _ That’s a story for later _ ] she grins.

Tron looks at her with utter adoration, as if he’s forgotten how wonderful she is up until this very nano. Yori’s core feels like it might collapse from so much [ _ affection _ ], and she pings it back, creating a loop. 

For so long Tron was afraid she’d been derezzed or repurposed, but she was out there leading her  _ own  _ rebellion, much closer to Clu (who never had the satisfaction of seeing her rectified-- that must have been another false memory)-- and  _ Beck  _ was with her. He can’t wait to hear what kind of trouble the two of them got into together. 

But apparently, now that Tron is beginning to feel better, it’s the Users’ turn to feel guilty.

“We owe you an apology,” Alan says. 

“You owe us an explanation,” Yori corrects. Something like resentment clouds over her happiness; Tron can feel it. Her words are icy, more hurt than angry. 

“ _ Yori, _ ” he chides, but there isn’t as much force behind his defense as there used to be. It hardly matters. She doesn’t acknowledge the fact that he spoke.

“How could you abandon us? How could you abandon  _ Flynn _ ?” 

That’s what she  _ really  _ doesn’t understand. It was bad enough to leave innocent programs on such a dangerous system for so long, but to leave one of their  _ own _ ? Had they even  _ looked  _ for Flynn while he was trapped here?

At her words Alan looks pained, and more than a little insulted.

“Flynn never told us about this place. When he disappeared-- no one knew to look here. We didn’t even know this was even a  _ possibility _ ” he insists, and yet his voice is so much like Tron’s was only micros ago; filled with guilt. “I  _ did  _ give Flynn permission to move Tron to this system, but… in the user world most of us don’t realize that programs are so— alive. Had I known that I wouldn’t have made that decision so lightly.” 

(Tron imagines another world where he was never brought here, never separated from his User. He would never have met Clu, never become Rinzler. He would forever be seen as a hero on the system he saved. Still, there would be a terrible price to pay. Yori would have been deleted had she stayed on the ENCOM system. One way or another, in that world, he would have lost her forever. That isn’t a happier alternative.) 

“I am sorry,” Alan says. Tron remains still under his gaze, but seems to be in far less distress than he was earlier. “I’m sorry it took me so long to help, but I came as soon as Sam told me what happened. Believe me, I wish I could have been here sooner. And I plan to be around a lot more from here on out.” 

Alan’s words confirm what Yori already knew; Users don’t have nearly as much power or foresight as they’d once believed. Still, the knowledge that Alan-One wants to help his program quells her anger, and restores a bit of Tron’s faith. She can hear it in his voice.

“I believe you, Alan-One.”

Yori shouldn’t be surprised that he means it, but after everything they’ve been through, part of her is. That’s alright, though. This is the closest Tron has sounded to himself since his reboot; still weary, but also stronger and more sure of himself. Yori knows that the best way for Tron to heal will be through the reassurance of his User, and she won’t get in the way.

“I’m sorry, too,” Sam says. “Dad didn’t know what happened to you, Tron. He thought you were derezzed during the coup. I like to think that if he’d known— what happened. He would have done something sooner. But he should have acted sooner as it is.” 

(Even Flynn’s son is displeased with him. That makes Yori feel a bit better about her own conflicted emotions.)

Tron nods but says nothing. Yori’s arm is still around him, and he’s tucked against her frame. Between the two of them, she looks far more like the protector. There’s a cold glint to her eyes as she looks back up at the Users. 

“I think we’ve talked enough about the past,” Yori says. “What are you going to do now?” 

This is the real test. They’d hinted at restoring the system, but she wants to hear them say the words-- make an actual  _ plan _ .

“We’re going to rebuild,” Sam says. “The Grid doesn’t have to be the exact same. And it doesn’t need to be perfect. I’ll take functional to start.” 

He gives a smile that’s half grimace when no one laughs, and looks between Tron and Yori. 

“We could use your help, if you’re willing. But if you’re not, we understand. No one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want to.”

Tron is silent for a long nano, and Yori is reminded of how tired he must be. She wishes he’d had the opportunity to rest before he had to make any life-altering decisions.

“I want to help restore the Grid. I’ll always be your security program, Alan-One.” Tron glances at his User before averting his gaze. “But I’m not sure I should be the System Monitor any longer. I derezzed too many innocent programs. They should have a defender they know they can trust. Someone who makes them feel safe. Someone like Beck.” 

[ _ Do you think he’d want the job? _ ] Tron asks. 

Yori fights the urge to laugh through her shock.

[ _ Yes _ .] 

Beck was always eager to help and protect other programs. The Renegade had become part of his identity over the cycles-- just as important (if no moreso) than his function as a mechanic. Yori is sure the beta would jump at the chance to be a proper Monitor with all the related upgrades; though she doesn’t want to think about the kind of trouble he would undoubtedly get into. 

[ _ That’s a lot of responsibility. _ ]

[ _ He can handle it. _ ] That, at least, Tron sounds sure of. Yori smiles. 

The Users exchange a look, obviously somewhat surprised, but they don’t argue. 

“I think we can arrange that,” Alan-One nods. Tron feels a strange combination of loss and relief. 

“I hate to even ask this,” Sam frowns, “but if you’re on the fence about being a Monitor, I guess that means System Administrator is out too? We’re going to need a new one.” 

Instead of answering, Tron turns to Yori. She expects him to send a ping, something along the lines of  _ I’ll do it _ , followed by [ _ exhaustion _ ], but he says nothing. When she looks to the Users, she finds that they’re watching her, too. 

A thrill of panic surges through her systems.

“Don’t look at  _ me _ .” 

“Why not?” Sam asks. His Flynn smile is far less charming when she remembers the implications behind it. ( _ What’s the worst that could happen?  _ They’d found out.) “You helped Dad code parts of the system. You’ve spent the last twenty years leading a rebellion and protecting programs. You’re passionate about the Grid. I know you’re not afraid to share your opinions. You’d be--” 

“ _ Don’t _ say perfect,” Yori warns.

Next to her, Tron makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

“You would be,” he says, and he’s well aware that he’d be in trouble if she wasn’t so glad to have him back. 

[ _ You can’t do any worse than the last one _ ] he offers.

The Users watch in confusion as Yori swats Tron’s shoulder, but her annoyance fades when he laughs. For cycles she’d thought she’d never hear that sound again.

[ _ Very funny _ .]

He transmits [ _ comfort/affection _ ] as he traces one of the light-lines on her arm. Apparently he’s decided to be serious now. 

[ _ It’s your decision _ .]

“I’m not designed for it,” Yori says, after a nano.

“You’re designed to create, and we know you can lead. That’s most of what you’d be doing. We would all work together to redesign and rebuild the Grid, but we’d need you to keep things going when we aren’t here.”

Yori considers it, despite her better judgement.

“If I agree to be the Administrator, you’ll listen to my concerns about the Grid? You’ll be here more than Flynn was?”

“Yes.” Somehow Sam looks more serious than she ever saw Flynn. “I know the mistakes that Dad made hurt you guys a lot-- to put it mildly. I can’t promise you that I won’t make mistakes too, but I do promise to learn from those mistakes. So I want you to tell us if you’re worried about anything-- if something doesn’t look right on your side of the screen, and we’ll fix it together. And you don’t have to wait until something goes wrong to tell us your ideas. As far as I’m concerned, your input matters more than mine. You’re the ones who live here.” 

Yori hates that she’s surprised by that. It makes an awful lot of sense. 

“Alan and I are going to ask more Users for help, too,” Sam continues. “No one else is getting trapped here, or trying to build an entire world alone. If this is gonna work, it’s gonna be a team effort.” His Flynn smile returns. “You can be part of the team either way, but…”

[ _ What do you think? _ ] Tron asks, and she can’t help but notice how  _ calm  _ he is now, as if the thought of the system being entrusted to her puts him at ease. Tron, the System Monitor, who knows first-hand how dangerous an ill-equipped Admin can be; he honestly believes she can do the job. And after everything they’ve gone through-- all the regrets she’s held onto for so long-- she isn’t sure she can step back again and let someone else take control, hoping things go right inside of ensuring that they do.

[ _ Lora-Prime help me, _ ] Yori says, and it’s weak, but she’s rewarded with a smile. 

“When do we start?”

**Author's Note:**

> This one took a long time to write, but I hope it was worth the wait! 
> 
> Aside from a possible prequel, the rest of this series will be continued here. The other chapters will be about Tron and Yori, Tron recovering, and various programs reuniting (so slightly self-indulgent lol). 
> 
> I spent about a month working on this chapter, so comments and kudos are extra appreciated!! Thanks for reading!


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